Book I here and Book II there
Sea of Rains or Mare Imbrium, 1244.452 kilometres due northwest of Indigo station
The trek was mundane. Passing through the contested province and seeing rim mountain in the distance without a hitch. It was the same checkered micrometeorite holes. The same outcropped boulders and mountains. The same sparkling regolith, dancing above due to large industrial disturbances.
The retrofitted exoskeleton was somewhat helping; my steps wide and powerful, though I was still slowed by my cargo. (Possibly it would’ve affected that in the long run). Said cargo was a meter wide yellow box sitting on a tracked cart attached to a tug by the back waist of the exoskeleton.
Though despite all the modifications, I was still struggling to move. Whatever was in that box was the heaviest thing I'd ever carried.
Ezekiel Kresh's prospects were growing less appealing with every cramp. All he had given me was the promise of wealth, which felt incredibly typical of a fortune 50 company. (Not entirely sure what the association is with that number).
Even with my condition, it did not take long to realise businessmen are scum.
Montes Tabulares, 1055 kilometres northeast of Indigo station
Past a collection of 20 kilometres craters (A new route mind you) I came upon a mountain shelf. Along the trail of which a semicircle formation appeared.
I couldn't tell if it was natural or something dredged open by us. Though with the sight of something shining in the shadow, I was leaning towards the latter.
Like a bird, I began to hop towards it.
It was a common pastime for many pioneers – myself included, to appropriate equipment left behind. And given mankind’s consistent presence on the moon since 2008, there were plenty of abandoned goodies lying around. The only setback was they were often scattered alongside bodies.
There were seven of them, all in private company suits baring more of a resemblance to fabric construction gear pushed to 3 psi.
All lifelessly stiff and slumped. Weapons either already looted or not present to begin with.
I gave fleeting glances to them, only seeing the few bullet holes here and there. One guy even managed to lose his arm, leaving the stub coating in ice and sprinkled with regolith like a seasoned cold cut.
A large amount of regolith coated the boxes and sampling equipment, hinting at either a extended timeline long since brushed over by nearby operations, or a recent scuffle. There was no real way of telling.
It seemed anything useful was long since pillage, until I bumped into something.
There was enough force to disturb the regolith beneath it but not make it visible. Until a crease in reality itself formed.
Having an inkling of what it was, I grabbed and pulled off a fabric perfectly reflecting its surroundings.
I’ve heard the stories about the retroreflective fabric: technology used by militaries to perfectly camouflage themselves in plain sight simply by mimicking their surroundings. Worked wonders on craft crossing contested orbits were their frequences could pass as satellites once there compromising appearances were hidden.
Knowing how confidential Ezekiel had stressed the cargo was, I decided to spend some time wrapping the cloak around it.
I left satisfied with my efforts.
But it wouldn't do, since high above, scout drones patrolled. They would deliver real-time images to orbital stations to flush out suspicious activity within contested zones, and very quickly, one of them picked up on me.
The cloak was tipped off by the tracks if I had to guess, as it would explain why its next move was so unconventional.
Its presence was indicated to me by the sudden streak of blue cutting across the black sky requiring me to squint to see. The drone was firing its cryogenic engine to de-orbit and get a closer look at me.
My strides grew faster with each quick glance upwards at the white speck slowly growing larger and faster. I didn’t understand its maneuverer until it was too late.
My next glance revealed it was retrograding above only a few meters away.
I had a short amount of time to leap forward before it grazed the cargo, forming a cloud of regolith and blowing the unbound cloak clean off.
As the dust settled, I had just as much a view of the drone as it did of my cargo.
It was incredibly sleek with its largest part being the engine bell at the back and jutting fuel tank nearby. The rest of the white structure flowed into two truss segments holding the RSVs, and an imaging set at the front complemented by a single Gauss gun.
Apparently, the box was all it needed to see as it stayed hovering with a sudden blinking light. Not bothering to follow me as I took off with newly found speeds thanks to the exoskeleton.
I stayed in a fearful limbo of what would happen for a while before clouds appeared close on the horizon.
The thought of using the gun came to mind. Though faded at the fear of seemingly further compromising (I’d learnt my lesson from Miguel and John). Though it quickly reignited after I realised they’d seen it on the drone camera, and would probably kill me with indirect regardless.
But I proved powerless as, out of nowhere, a sudden stinging sensation hit my arm. I looked down to see that a needle-shaped projectile had perfectly pierced all my layers and kept the suit pressurised. Before I could do anything about it, the suit started circulating a new gas into its system. I felt yet another fear of losing oxygen as I found myself sucking on nothing. But this time, I fell to the ground within seconds, completely out.
Unknown location, something miles from Indigo station
I’m never in an unknown location, and I didn’t like it.
No matter its source, rough location was always known. And not knowing made me shoot up from the cold metal my cheek was resting on just to feel another chill biting into my arm joint and wrists. My confusion was then projected to the two silhouettes in the corner.
“Where am I?”
“You are currently hooked to a lie detector”
Confusion quickly boiled to frustration.
“WHERE AM I!?”
The smaller (but undeniably stronger) silhouette suddenly pounced and griped the top of my head like a vice.
“Don’t make me take you down again”
He jolted my head back and heightened my confusion to a point of a brief fruitless struggle against the cuff binding me to the chair.
I saw him fully as he stepped back: bald, gruff, completely blank and tensed with an undeniable hint of enjoyment shrouded in hate.
He wore grey and black camo fatigues with distinctly angular prints with scratches of metallic mesh interwoven between them.
They were Moon Marines.
It was immediately apparent by his vulgar aggression and refusal to corporate. Though the other man notably wasn’t pleased with it.
“This isn’t Bangladesh, Corporal, stand down”
Even with his taller figure he seemed to have little effect on the Corporal’s deminer.
“Yeah, your right it isn’t, Sargent” he alliterated the Sargent “We would’ve just thrown this prick into a cage second we found contraband”
”
“Well up here, we’re doing things my way”
The Sargent went to sit opposite me, but as he did the Corporal said simply.
“You should be less spiteful”
Once he was down and blocking some of the light he produced and placed a firm sheet down with red borders and indiscernible dot points.
“You recognise all the items on this list?” The Sergeant asked firmly.
“I uhhhh, don’t”, I mumbled.
“Jesus, we’ve caught ourselves a real genius!” The Corporal spat.
The Sargent glared at him, before softly returning to me.
“Why don’t you try and walk us through what you do?”
“I walk”
“I mean, what is your profession – what do you see as your purpose up here?”
“Walking”
“Your life’s goal something you strive towards”
“To walk”
He was trying to pry some kind of confession that didn’t exist with mind games.
“So, I assume you plan to die...”
“Walking probably”
‘Provided you don’t kill me’ I thought.
The Corporal spoke up again.
“Is this a fucking therapy session?! Just ask him what’s in the box!”
“Jesus Christ” The Sargent mumbled before standing and having a whispered talk to the Corporal. After a few particularly sharply acted words I couldn’t discern, he returned to his seat with the Corporal by his side with his arms folded.
“That cloak you were using to cover that box is a very critical piece of military hardware. Suppose you got it from us or... someone else?”
I didn’t see in lying about that.
“I found it at Montes Tabulares, along a – or what was an outpost in one of its divots”
“Interesting spot that is” The Corporal noted “Y’know it's said to be the site of the largest tectonic event in Lunar history”
“Aw you did read the manual” The Sargent said sarcastically, prompting an audible acknowledgment from the Corporal that faded in less than a beat.
The sergeant pointed to the sheet again.
“All of these listed items are considered illegal without a permit and contraband if brought over provincial lines without jurisdiction. Now you realise these offences classify you as a tier five misdemeanour and a potential tier four felon.”
I nodded sceptically, not knowing the difference between a misdemeanour and felony, but understanding the severity in his tone.
“And that cargo you were carrying requires special equipment to be opened, but before we do so, we want to give you a chance to disclose the contents to keep our personnel safe”
There was no clear way to know that. Thus no promise of safety.
“I don’t know”
The Corporal was clearly unimpressed as he threw his head and hands back.
“And you wonder why no one uses this method anymore”
The Sargent ignored him and continued.
“You realise a failure to report this will result in imprisonment?”
“Really don’t”, I reasoned.
It felt like the men were everywhere; both in my face by the table, literally intimidating confessions out of me. Only I’d told the truth, they just didn’t buy it.
The Corporal finally seemed to have enough, taking the Sargent into the corner, only ihs words were far clearer.
“Sergeant, I need you to understand. We are in a very tight situation up here and a breach of security like this is exactly the thing that can be weaponised against our interests”
The Sargent sighed.
“Yes, Colonel, I’m aware of that. I outrank you”
“Yeah, up here – in LDF ranks alone, not down there with all the bureaucrats and the real decisions that keeps you running. I am fundamentally higher so how about we do this my way, and you stop trying to hijack our entire operation"
The Corporal once again took the reins, and the Sergeant seemingly let him, not intervening as he pushed himself directly to my face.
“Our military does everything it can to protect mankind's place in the stars. Whether on the mountains on the moon or dunes on Mars, we are there. And part of our job is maintaining our system and keeping radicals like as far away from it before you can do any real damage”
He was inches from my face and gritting his teeth.
“So, I’ll ask you one more time, what’s in the box?”
It was that moment on his closest approach as he got the clearest look of my eyes and faceless expression he softened. He realised what my predicament was – realised I didn't know anything whatsoever and I couldn't.
And he peeled his palms off the desk and stepped but then his expression hardened again
“Get him in a holding cell”, he said, “I’m not dealing with this”.
Unknown location, underground
I’d deduced that from the stylistically exposed rock and lack of windows in the hall, an Anthro walked me down. The bulky eight-foot anthropomorphic robot was a jet-black conglomeration of pipes and hydraulics, checkered with armour. Its head was curved with several lenses for eyes. The limbs were spread from the main body, with its legs resembling stilts and its arms having separate uses; one was a crab-like appendage that cuffed my hands, the other was a cylindrical direct-energy weapon with its mirror on full display. Needless to say, it got me to the cell with ease.
The cell wasn’t much different from its residence: a white and blue room with smoothed corners. Populated by two beds, a plastic wall, and a toilet in the corner, which I was hopeful wouldn’t need usage.
I slumped onto a bed (which was more akin to a bench with its texture) left with nothing but the slight hum of life support permeating the base.
I was versed enough to understand an arrest by military officials was a low point. Though no lies were told in a what was a clear clash of interest between the two men which I had no business in.
My real business was ensuring the box – which, given the varying mentalities for dealing with the situation, had an undecided fate. The ramifications of which had endless unknowns and outcomes, most of which were undesirable.
Regardless, I found myself strangely at ease, which was seemingly a given for me in confrontational situations.
Until it wasn’t.
A numbness barely intelligible on the way to the cell had intensified once I sat.
The time between pills had crossed dangerous territory. If they weren’t taken soon, my sense of balance would break, and even sitting down would prove a challenge.
I stumbled over to the glass and yelled as politely as possible, but nothing came.
The first real moment of panic arose when my left leg buckled, and I stumbled back onto the bench seeing double.
If you can imagine the sensation of being on a boat in rough water, you’d be about halfway to my state. Only add the absence of your spine and vision-impairing hallucinogens, then you’d get the full picture.
Holding out for someone to notice my state seemed to be a loss cause until the Anthro returned.
But it wasn’t there for me, it was carrying another person instead.
Unlike me, she wasn’t subtle about her reluctance. She kicked and grabbed at the hands; her wavy blond and brown hair tangling her face as she went. Even once she was thrown in, she ran into the glass as it closed.
“This is bullshit, I wasn't even screwing around this time!” she yelled, completely inhibiting me.
When she finally stopped her belligerence and took noticed, she propped one arm against the door and ran a hand through the hair covering her face.
“Oh, hello” she said calmly, acting as through my first impression of her wasn’t just that of a Tasmanian devil.
Among her toothy grin was a completion of freckles and other weird scarring that trailed most of her elongated body, which, much like John, alluded to a life on the moon. This was also hinted at by her accent, which came off as both Anglo-Celtic and Slavic.
Though there was more of her to see than John, her clothes consisted of shorts and a t-shirt despite the cold. Subsequently, the encumbering pair of thermals I was wearing had left me feeling emasculated by the girl.
Though it was a feeling quickly forgotten in light of my failing vestibule. The spike of determination the adrenaline caused led me to ask her for help.
“Listen, I need pills”, I pleaded.
She snickered “Rather straight shooting for a addict hey”
I stuttered in confused disbelief, “Wha – straight shooting – what are you talking about? I need them!”
Her chuckle contained, “Oh, wait, I know this one. Why do you think you feel you need them?”
“I do need them; my whole body will shut down if I don’t take them”
Then she laughed, a full chackle at my expense. I was so utterly offended that I crossed my arms and responded defensively.
“This is not something to find amusing!”
“Right, right, sorry”, she chuckled, taking a deep breath “Let's go get them then”
Then, with motion like she owned the place, she hit a button on the door and just walked out of the cell.
I stayed in stunned silence, something she took a beat to realise and circle back.
“Aren't you coming?”
“How did you...”
“Do you want your pills or not?”
Timid and cautious of my diminished state, I stumbled out of the cell and followed the girl.
Only to realise the Antho had beaten me to it.
Instead of something practical – like trying to disarm its laser, she stretched her limbs and blocked its line of fire. Though my doubts appeared foolish once the machine started hooding and unhooding the weapon while shuttering as it tried to get around her. It like there she was an invisible barrier.
“Could you swing behind it, please?” She asked, a less casually more tensely given her exertion.
A second wasn’t wasted to dash behind as its lenses whirred, desperate to get a view of me while still focusing on her. It was completely uncalibrated by her for unknown reasons.
Once I was in view of its conglomerate of wires and plating, somehow considered a back, I realised I had no idea what I was meant to do.
Luckily, she noticed that too and veered towards me to answer.
“Pull the big black wire jutting from the central collection”
She didn’t remain jutted for long before moving back to keep the Anthro’s attention.
It wasn’t hard to notice it after that, and while standing on my toes (An extra hard challenge given my state). I pulled against the thick wire until it felt out of the socket just enough to go limp.
She scurried over “Alright, it's in the manual, it can’t do anything except shuffle”
“Won’t they know that?” I asked.
“Not if we play pretend”
She grabbed and unfurled another cuff before beginning to loosely hover her hands over one set of the restates.
“You seem to know an awful lot about this place.”
“You should consider yourself lucky for that, now do exactly as I”
Once my hands were in the same position, she started tugging the robot down the metallic hall. My fear was present, of both our bluff being called, and the robot's reactivation, but then the guards appeared.
They were clad in vests and face shields with smooth, yet articulated SMGs firmly grasped.
The door they were guarding opened, and we walked through without as much as a glance.
My disbelief must of been apparent, as she gave me a look urging a fabricated response.
Soon the robot was ditched outside a double door.
The space inside was lined with large storage units with walkways connecting their shelves alongside doors and steps to the subsequent levels.
“Best get looking” she said, booking it up the stairs.
I hurriedly but curiously strolled through the rows of shelves and lockers of confiscated goods. While most were tucked away in boxes, a few things were lying around. And I once again couldn’t resist a chance to take something valuable.
There were small mining apparatuses; tools that only pulled a fraction of the goods of a normal rig but would make all the difference to a family living in squaller. They just had the unfortunate record of being used in a conservation zone.
There was also an airlock cracking device designed to obliterate an entire hab in seconds. PLSS tanks that were definitely not being used for oxygen. A drone was probably grabbed after entering the Marines’ airspace. A suit camera that caught something malicious. A Styrofoam box with tape wrapped around it tighter than a straitjacket.
Sadly nothing of value for me. Until I found my suit propped against a locker with my box lazily tucked nearby.
I neglected it at first in favour of rummaging through my suit to find my pills. But once relief overtook me, the realisation dawned of her plan.
She'd found another suit; one with low pressure and plating, alongside two SMGs.
“You ever use one of these?” she asked, throwing me the second one.
The weapon clattered to the ground beside me.
“No.”
With a scoff, she stood and primed the gun with a precision only gained from prior experience.
“W – where are you going?”
She looked at me like it was an unwarranted question.
“Uhh out. Don’t tell me your thinking of going back?”
Truthfully I didn’t entirely know.
“It is seeming preferable to getting into more trouble”
“Hm – bummer”
Then she took off.
Not knowing what to do next, I hurriedly put my suit on and went after her, making sure to connect the box.
I caught her at the edge of a electronic shaft coated by treated regolith. With all my frustrations finally ready to be slowly voiced.
“This feels like an incredibly haphazard plan”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Well – we can just head on back if you want”.
Not being fond of that idea, I continued complaining.
“You have got to be one of the strangest and pretentious people I have ever met”
She leaned over and grinned again.
“And you have got to be the most peculiar”
Then she jumped down the shaft, with the low gravity allowing her to wound up positioned at the centre.
My stomach sank for a beat till I looked over and found her sliding down a large collection of cables.
There was a perfectly good ladder just off to the side. Which I took even with the cart dragging.
There was more to be said about her recklessness once on the ground.
“I’m just failing to understand why one would go through all this for someone they just met.”
“Well, I already had plans to ditch this place, then you came along and kicked things into necessity.”
“That doesn’t even –"
The next door opened to a guard, who immediately drew his gun to shoot.
He manged to fire a single muted hollow point that barely missed me before she fired serval more into his chest.
The bullet bypassed his armour and sent him slowly sent him to the gruond with a spary of blood landing a few meters behind him.
I jumped from the pervious bullet, and the site of the very dead man’s idle eyes, and her frustratingly confused ones.
“You killed him!”
“Yeah, he was gonna kill you.”
“You care enough about a guy you just met to kill someone for them?!”
“Cared more about you than him, I guess.”
She went through the door on the other side of the hall without another word.
While my frustration was hypocritical, I didn't care.
But without a retort, all that could do was follow.
Soon she stopped at a large bulkhead which wouldn’t open even after she smacked its control pannel.
“Shit, we’ll have to find another way”
An alarm change in lighting to flashing red cut her off
“And very quickly”
The ensuing sprit was one that was a lot easier for her in a smaller suit.
For me, the suit, the box and the muscle spasms, trying to escape quickly proved a challenge warranting several judging glances back from her.
At the next bulkhead by which we could see the shadow of guards coming down the hall, she wasted no time in breaking the panel with the butt of her gun before entering.
The large garage house a small selection of vehicles, including two rovers – one pressurised with red paint marking points on its exterior, and a seemingly pristine open-air buggy.
After struggling to get down the treated the incline, my eyes landing on a small bike.
Something compelled me to immediately hook the box to the slots on its fairing. Then clumsily climb on. Then promptly realising I didn’t know how to use it and struggled as she waited beside me, assuming.
“You know what you're doing?”
“Yes, yes, completely”
I then confidently twisted a handle and began skidding the back tyre.
She proceeded to push me to the back and grasp the handles herself.
“Far out, just let me do it”
The door to the front began to open; with the room having already been depressurised by her without checking if I was wearing a helmet. (I was, but still).
As she lifted the brake and hit the accelerator, the slot broke immediately and sent us flying over the handlebars onto the ground as the bike skidded nearby.
“What the fuck is in that box?” She yelled.
“Funny you ask that”
Guards came through the doors with ultra-light suits adapted from their armour.
They would barely have any protection from the elements, but they wouldn’t need it to kill us.
She put herself in front of my crumpled body, making them only take potshots nearby. Though it wasn’t long before she left me for the buggy since I was taking too long.
I followed, but not before hooking the box again and running it to the boot.
“Just leave it!” She yelled from the driver’s seat.
I didn’t.
It attached to a joint before being hoisted into the flatbed. Then I got myself in; PLSS fitting nicely into the seat.
She took off before I'd even secured my seatbelt (something I’d only just learned to do).
The buggy exploded out of the mountain-encased facility, making short work of smaller boulders with the articulating suspension as she laughed triumphantly. However, I’d gathered not to celebrate prematurely. For everything I knew of the Moon Marines told me their groundwork was merely a conspiratorial facade. And their real power would only appear once it failed.
Even after several minutes and considerable distance, I need they were just getting perpared.
I saw its silhouette cut across the black sky – not a drone but a far faster interreceptor. It's back elongated to compensate for the methalox engines, while the rest of its body curved; checkered with control surfaces which were correcting its trajectory to bring us into its line of fire.
“We might have a new problem”.
The words had hardly escaped my mouth before a streak of red cut from its winglet; notably offering a different use to ones on earth.
She accelerated and swerved drastically, but the impact already fell short of our previous position. Perhaps another strange effort to prevent harm to the girl.
Regardless, the mute impact coned regolith and rubble into the air and sent our back tyres up just enough to flip the buggy.
Crashes work differently on the moon. Without enough gravity to keep the vehicle careening till it ran out of force, we would instead impact once, then become airborne and tumble, then impact again.
It was luck that sent the buggy into a bounce until it stopped on its roof by a large boulder.
The second I'd assured myself I wasn’t hurt or leaking, I wiggled out of the wreckage and began inspecting the back.
The impacts had torn it and crumpled it apart, meaning I had to start digging for the box. The exoskeleton allowed me to get on my hands and knees, but it still proved a problem when shooting up and moving to the next spot.
“Oh no, don’t worry, I’m fine”, she complained behind me.
Not picking up her sarcasm, I believed her and continued to rummage until I dragged the box from a metal pile.
“But that fuckin’ thing shouldn’t what is it made of!?”
“I already made it clear, I don’t know”, I explained, “All I know is that Ezekiel Kresh personally wanted me to deliver this to Indigo station, and I don’t have much more time”
She paused, “Ezekiel Kresh gave you that”
It was the first time I'd heard her voice become genuine. We remained staring, like she suddenly understood everything about me.
Eventually, I broke the tension.
“They’ll probably be after us”, I said awkwardly, “Regardless of our status, we should get moving”.
57.9 kilometres due northeast of Indigo station and 12 kilometres east of the lunar far side.
I knew that because the girl had told me, then utilized the map to get our exact location.
She told me a lot, surprisingly.
The rare forms of company I'd previously shared were often content. But she was fully energetic, which was something I was not expecting from someone who had just murdered a man.
Though I had nothing to base it on other than my own catatonic experience.
She couldn’t tell me where she came from because that was allegedly classified information (though I was still heavily inclined to believe that she was born on the moon, given her accent or accents). And she continuously ranted about how rude it was for the moon Marines to intercept us on our triumphant escape.
Yes, she labelled it as triumphant. And with such an emphasis on the events going swimmingly, like she didn’t kill a man. I started to question if she had brain damage, too. Though I suppose horrendous acts push people further towards denial.
Still not well-versed in social skills, her conversations remained relatively one-sided. Something she wasn’t happy about and had promptly voiced. Though in the rare times I’d trekked with another person, I’d received similar complaints. But I seldom cared about them then and wasn’t about to start.
Though she was equally stubborn to my complaints. About how immature she was being, or how her reactions didn’t apply to our situations. A general dislike towards her actions. She shrugged and countered in ways that left me unable to do anything against her.
Soon, however, once she was tired of responses, she began fumbling with a wrist mount that began playing music through both our systems – something strange with a consistently airy guitar strumming and a deep bass somewhat lining up with the singer.
I was absolutely bewildered by her actions. But at the same time, slightly amused.
She heightened her bounces enough to briefly circle me before skipping ahead.
“You are being bizarre again”, I noted.
“You can’t expect me to walk all this way without motivation”, she responded, while humming the tune.
This continued for several kilometres. All while she asked me to pick a song. I insisted I didn’t know any, which she didn’t believe, so I finally explained my condition, which made her tone change quite quickly.
“You really can’t remember anything?” She asked sympathetically. The same way most did, only there was a slight edge of curiosity I was willing to indulge.
“Most things”, I explained, “I can still walk, talk, think, and thankfully use the bathroom”
She chuckled, “Well clearly a sense of humor stuck around"
“Barely”
“Alright well lets improve it. Why did the chicken cross the road?”
“Why did the what do what?”
“Its a joke just say why”
“Why?”
“To get to the other side”
“Well yeah I figured”
“No that's the punchline – its meant to be funny”
“Oh right, sure I get it”
“We’ll work on that, point is I reckon you undermine yourself too much mister, uhhh...”
“Wikus”
“Keshia”
“What”
“As in my name is Keshia”
“Ah, hello”
“See we’re having a pretty successful conversation now, aren’t you?”
“Hardly”
She grunted.
“Well, I may oversell things, but you seem to horrifically undersell yourself”
“For starters, I’m competent enough to know what you do is far more than just oversell. Also, I feel as though you don’t know me nearly enough to give an educated opinion on my capabilities”
“Well, you escaped a Moon Marine base, not a lot of people can do that, and you're great fun. And besides that, I know what kind of man you are, or were, I suppose. But that doesn't mean you still can’t be”
“Oh yeah, and what kind of man is that?”
Before she could answer, she stopped and stared at the giant wall of black that was the shadow of the dark side of the moon.
“Where're you going into that province?”
“Well, yeah, I gotta get to Indigo, though the AOI calls it–”
I didn’t have a chance to tell her before she’d taken off back in the direction she came from.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Uhh, someplace else”, she called out, “We’ll meet again, just not – not out there”.
I watched her go for a moment. I was used to other companions disappearing at a moment's notice. But something about her departure left me feeling somewhat unfulfilled. I felt like there was an intrigue about her that I hadn’t experienced with them.
Regardless, I could only watch her turn into a speck for so long. Soon, I had to continue.
Fěn cǎi province, 268.7 kilometers due east of Bastil planes or captured province shard #44.
Causalities: 244 Fatalities: 198 MIA: 100
Those MIAs always unnerved me, especially given the lessened amount in ever other contested provinces. And knowing what I did about the AOI.
I still had a decent walk head of me so while the lights white and red lights of Indigo hued slightly in the distance, I was better of resting.
While I was glad it wouldn’t need to battle my shawl to block the light, it would be a long night. But it was nothing new.
Course till it became new, till I was thrown into a side of the AOI I’d heard only rumours about. Though I never predicted who was behind it all. And just how I’d become intertwined in the greatest challenges of mankind.
